


Baba Yaga

by Albione



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:39:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albione/pseuds/Albione
Summary: Oliver made a wish and his life was unravelling.





	Baba Yaga

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as an antidote for Ghosts of a summer past; a bit of happiness after such a dark and sad story. Oliver still goes through the grinder though; I cannot help it, he brings out the sadist in me!  
> It is film verse.  
> Baba Yaga is the Russian witch; she lives in a house with chicken legs and can be cruel but sometimes just. She is seen as a sort of Mother Nature, cruel but with her reasons.   
> The Befana is an old woman that flies on a broomstick and brings presents to the good children and coal to the bad on the night of the Epiphany in Italian tradition.  
> Lapochka is sweetie pie in Russian; solnyshko is small sun.  
> Comments are always much appreciated… And a new chapter of Coda is ready, just needs me to obsessively check it.

“Baba, can you tell me the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful?”  
“You love this story lapochka, how many times have I told it?”  
“I like that being good is rewarded!”  
The old lady smiled at the little blond boy with an earnest expression sitting next to her on the old comfy couch.  
“It depends on the type of good lapochka, only the good from the heart has wishes granted. Remember, only one wish will be granted in your lifetime, so be careful what you wish for!”  
The little boy nodded.  
\----  
Oliver Avniel knew exactly when his life had started to unravel, the moment he phoned Elio and broke his heart. He supposed all that happened afterwards was just divine punishment.  
“I am getting married in the spring” Seven words that placed him exactly where he was meant to be, the life that all expected from him.   
But if Elio suffered a fraction of what he suffered when he spoke, all that befell him in the New Year was inevitable; and Elio did suffer, the muffled break in his voice, the silence, all indicated that the boy had hoped for a different outcome.  
But Oliver knew as the train left the station that the summer had ended; he knew the last night in Bergamo that they had reached the end of the road. But it hurt.

It hurt as much as when his loved Baba had died in January.  
“Don’t be sad lapochka; your baba will always look after you.” She held his hands and Oliver could not help feeling helpless, she was so small in the hospital bed; she was fading but her blue eyes were clear as those of a child.   
The rest of the family called her Baba Yaga; she was a strong matriarch, widowed young with five children in a foreign country. She had worked hard and built a laundry business, made sure all her children got an education and when they did, they were all ashamed of their peasant mother.   
But they were also all afraid of her, except Oliver; he was her solnyshko; they adored each other from the moment he was born.

Oliver held her hands willing her to make it through.   
“You never made your wish lapochka, make it now while you are still in time.”  
And Oliver wished she would live and that he could still visit her often. He smiled at her as he thought how much he wanted that.  
“That is not possible, my time has come, you have to wish for something else. Remember, be careful!” He wondered if his thoughts were so obvious.   
Sitting in the hospital room he knew what he wanted. As soon as he thought it, she smiled at him.  
“Yes, a wise wish.” And then she was gone, leaving Oliver bereft.

As Oliver walked down the steps of the Met museum he wondered if all that had happened had to do with his wish.   
“Stop being ridiculous Oliver, as though wishes are possible.”   
But he did hope that that wish would come true, it would have given him comfort in these difficult times.

Since Baba’s death everything had gone wrong. In March Linda had broken off the engagement, “I am sorry Oliver, but I feel you are not ready to settle down!”   
He felt relieved, but that did not lessen the shock.  
He had moved from his shared flat in 114th street, that was so near the university, to a small single one in 68th street, ready to start married life, Linda had wanted to move near Central Park, but the landlord had just put up the rent and on his own he could not afford it any longer.  
He had argued with his parents at Baba’s funeral when he heard his mother calling her Baba Yaga; and then when Linda had called off the marriage hell had broken.   
“You are such a useless son; Levi’s son is a lawyer, why didn’t you study something useful? I bet Linda would have stayed with you if you weren’t such a loser! Your cousin has bought his house, you will never be able to afford your own house if we didn’t help, would you?”  
It continued for hours, till he snapped and told them everything he had kept in for twenty-four years.   
It was not pretty; he had a lot to say.  
There was no going back, he was virtually an orphan. And soon without anywhere to live.

If only work was going well, but even that was a disaster; Professor Johnston was working him to the bone, dropping incredible amounts of work onto his TA, Oliver, leaving him little time to work on his PHD.   
He had spent the morning preparing a visit to the museum when the new academic year started. “Good job I finished the book last year…” he thought. 

As he crossed Central Park he wondered what had happened to his life in just a year; his life could be described before Elio and after Elio. BE and AE.   
And yet, he regretted nothing, those two weeks had been the best in his life; they were worth the disaster the present was.  
It was exactly a year since he left Italy and Elio “A year today, I wonder how Elio is doing?” he thought; he had ticked off all the anniversaries in the past six weeks, the first time he saw him, when he rubbed his shoulder, the first kiss… All of them.   
He hoped walking would calm him down.

Thinking of Elio was causing hallucinations, because in front of him there he was. At least, someone that looked a lot like him.   
Slim and lanky, brown curly hair, longer than a year ago, and the same way of walking, between a shuffle and a skip.  
“Elio!” he shouted, and the boy turned and looked at him in shock. It was Elio.  
“Oliver” Elio’s tone of voice was between hope and despair, he had rehearsed a million times how he would react if he had bumped into Oliver; but reality was different.  
They stood just looking at each other, neither had the courage to say anything.   
The last conversation at Christmas hung over them.

“So you are in New York, what a surprise” Oliver felt a fool as soon as he said it, but he wanted to break the silence.  
“Yes, I am studying here, I mean, I will start at Juilliard in a couple of weeks.” Elio wondered if he really had to give explanations.  
“That’s great, I knew you are a musical genius! We must meet up sometime…”   
They both were looking at the sidewalk, neither had the courage to read the others expression.  
“Yes, that would be good…” Elio felt like screaming, it would not be good, it would be painful, it would kill him!

In that moment the heavens opened and a wall of rain fell upon the city, especially onto Oliver and Elio.  
“What the hell?” Oliver grabbed Elio’s hand and ran to seek cover under a doorway; they were soaked.   
“Is the weather always so unpredictable here?” Elio asked; his hair was wet and a curl was glued to his forehead; Oliver had to repress the urge to kiss him. “No, but I have a black cloud following me.”  
Elio looked at him puzzled. “It is dying down, I better go now…”   
He really did not want to be so close to Oliver; he had hoped to bump into him, but it was too early, too raw still. But it would always be too raw, Elio knew that.  
“Let me check.” Oliver put out his hand and the rain seemed to have stopped, so he ventured out from the doorway and looked up; it had stopped raining, but it started to hail. The largest hailstone fell straight into his face.   
“Oliver!” Elio screamed as Oliver bent over in pain hand covering his left eye.   
He dragged Oliver back into the doorway.  
“Oliver, are you ok?” The panic in Elio’s voice comforted Oliver, and he nodded “I just feel as though Muhammad Ali socked me one!” He tried to laugh, but winced instead.  
Elio took Oliver’s hand and carefully pulled it away from his eye “No broken skin and your eye is clear, but there will be a large bruise” He was relieved.   
“Great, I shall start the academic year with a black eye, very professional.” Oliver was bitter, this year was getting worse and worse.  
“Look Oliver, you need to place something cold over it, my flat is just round the corner, I have some ice”  
Just knowing that someone was concerned about him made Oliver want to cry; that the concern came from Elio made Oliver feel guilty.

The hailstorm had stopped, it had achieved what was needed, and Elio guided Oliver round the corner to his flat. “You live in 68th street?”  
“Yes, it is close to Juilliard, and they do not have dorms. I know I am the usual spoilt kid, but dad dear friend, Professor Johnston, had this flat empty so I just pay the bills and look after it.”  
Is that why Professor Johnston is so hard on me Oliver wondered, he could not bear to think what Pro had told him.   
But Elio living so next to him, what a coincidence. 

The flat was light and airy, it still felt unlived in, Elio must have just moved in; as Oliver took off his soaking trench coat and collapsed onto the couch, Elio ran into the kitchen and returned with a cold cola can. “Sorry, that is all I have…”  
Oliver smiled, and placing the can on his eye felt strangely at home.   
Elio hovered, bringing towels and asking if Oliver wanted something warm to drink, not having the courage to sit next to him, till Oliver patted the couch “It is your place, don’t stand, it makes me nervous.”  
Elio sat on the edge, ready to flee; there was so much he wanted to say, to know, but he was afraid to start the conversation.

“So, when did you apply for Juilliard?” Oliver was hoping he had done it for him, but he knew that it was a vain hope, selfish even.  
“I applied for most of the music schools, and I got the call from Juilliard on the sixth of January for the audition in March, a great Befana present. It was a small consolation after…” Elio stopped, he did not want to mention their phone call; it was too raw.  
Baba died on the sixth, life is strange Oliver thought.  
“You were here in March? I am sorry I did not know, when?” He could have bumped into Elio then, it would have soothed him so much.  
“Only for a few days, the audition was on the fourth, but I stayed with mum and dad a few extra days as tourists.”  
Goodness, Linda had left him on the fourth, I wonder if she could sense Elio’s presence in the city. “Don’t be ridiculous Oliver, Linda is the most practical person on the planet” he chided himself.  
“I bet they told you immediately that they wanted you!” Oliver smiled and Elio blushed. 

The silence between them was much warmer.   
“And how was your wedding?” Elio’s voice was small, he felt small asking, but he really could not avoid the subject, it had been obsessing him since the phone call.  
Oliver pressed the now not so cold can against his eye; the pain was pleasurable compared to the hurt in Elio’s voice that pierced his heart.   
“The wedding did not happen, we broke up in March; actually, she broke the engagement…”  
“Oh, I am sorry.” And, God bless him, Elio was sorry; if Oliver was hurt, he felt pain.  
He looked at Oliver, studying his profile, and wondered if there was anything he could say except that she must have been mad to leave Oliver; how could anyone lucky to have him in their life want to leave him?   
Oliver turned and smiled “It was actually the best thing that could have happened to me! I proposed because I felt I had to, not because I wanted to. I am so sorry if I hurt you Elio, but I want you to live your life freely, I want you to experience all the things a young man can without being tied to a relationship that is seen as abnormal by the majority of people. I thought freedom was the only thing I could give you.”   
He felt so light saying these things; it was true, he had thought about Elio and how being with him would clip his wings.   
Elio needed to show the world what a magnificent person he was, and he would only hold him back.

Elio started to cry, ugly sobbing tears. Oliver hugged him, the can rolling on the floor.  
“I only need you Oliver, without you I could not fly. I do not know why Juilliard took me, I played so badly, I was just thinking you were somewhere in the city and I was not next to you. I cannot be complete if you are not with me, you are my sun Oliver!”  
He raised his head and breathed into Oliver’s mouth “Elio”; Oliver closed his eyes and opened his lips for the kiss he had desired since he saw Elio in the street.  
“Oliver, Oliver” he replied.  
“Don’t’ ever leave me again!” they both said, their pledge to each other as they kissed, the first kiss of a lifetime of kisses.  
\----  
“A wise whish” Baba said as Oliver thought “I want Elio to be happy”  
A wise wish from her solnyshko; because there would be no happiness for the curly headed boy unless Oliver was with him. She would gladly grant this wish.  
A baba Yaga never makes things easy, but in the end she will grant your wish if it is from the heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, Juilliard did not have dorms till after 1984, found out while researching for another fic I have in the can. I obsessivly research, the problem of being a history grad...


End file.
